


The day that changed my life

by sherlylikeswaffles



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-03-05 08:58:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3113870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlylikeswaffles/pseuds/sherlylikeswaffles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly's life is boring. Everyday she slices up some dead bodies and types a few reports. So when Sherlock Holmes enters her lab, she doesn't quite know what to think...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The day that changed my life

**Author's Note:**

> It's written out of Molly's point of view - I-perspective.   
> All sorts of comments are appreciated!

It seemed to be a day like every other day in my boring and monotone life. I got up, had breakfast while watching some stupid “good morning” show on TV to forget my loneliness. Then I went to work by the crowded tube. The lab wasn’t very welcoming as always because dead corpses couldn’t greet you. The bright neon-light shone on the sterile aluminium tables making the lab even more unpleasant. I went to the cupboard where the bodies were stored. Yesterday I hadn’t managed to finish the autopsy of this guy who killed himself by taking to many drugs. He died with 22 but it had been his fault and the body was in a disgusting state so I worked fast to finish the report and give him free to have a funeral where no one would come. I wondered if my funeral would be the same. Of course, I wasn’t going to commit suicide but I had no one who cared enough about me to attend my funeral. No one loved me, no one would miss me… I shoved those unpleasant thoughts out of my head and switched on the radio. After a few hours I finally finished my dirty work and tidied up. Then I sat down in front of the computer and typed the pathological report. It was the same all over again. Writing down the name of the dead man, date of death, what caused the death, what other illnesses had been in the body…  
Suddenly my work was interrupted by someone throwing the door open. “Molly, we have a new one for you! Fifty years old, heart attack.”Josh's voice was far too cheery for what he said- “Okay”, I replied, “When do you need the report?”   
“Tomorrow?” asked Josh.  
“Yeah. Tomorrow is fine.” Because what else do I have to do besides slicing open dead people? The door was opened again at about half an hour later.  
It was Amy. She was a friend of mine who worked as a secretary in St. Barth’s. She was a nice and funny person but sometimes she was just annoying. Amy could talk for ages non stop. “Molly, dear, “she said, “It’s lunch time. Come on, go with me to the cafeteria.”  
I wasn’t in any mood for Amy but I didn’t want to be rude so I said: “Sure. Wait a sec. I’ll clean me up.” She made a noise of disgust as she saw the blood on my sterile gloves. But after I was all cleaned up Amy hugged me warmly. And then the chatting began: Amy’s favourite topics were TV-series and guys. I preferred talking about TV-series. Because firstly this was a topic I was good at. In my loneliness I watched lots of TV and often senseless series or documentaries about animals. My favourite was “Glee”. And secondly I don’t like to talk about guys and to talk with Amy about men was especially depressing. She had very week another boyfriend. My love-life, on the other hand, was non existent.  
Lunch was some sort of pasta. I chatted with Amy while eating but I was quite glad when she finally finished. It took very long because she wasn’t good at talking and eating at the same time. We parted ways and went to the lab to return to my work.  
I entered the lab whistling a little melody. Suddenly I stopped. There was someone in the lab. I could just see the back of the man. He wore a long dark coat and had curly black hair. He seemed very tall and a bit intimidating. He leaned over a dead body which I hadn’t put there. I coughed nervously and said: “Eh, Sir, what are you doing here?” The man showed no reaction at all. I repeated my question, this time I raised the volume of my voice. Finally he turned around.  
His looks took my breath away. “Oh my god!” was the first thought I had. He wasn’t like a male model or even a film star nor was he like the man of my dreams. But he was gorgeous, oh yes he was! I starred at his face, taking in every detail. It was pale and long. His cheekbones were high and prominent. His eyes were very light blue and there was a mysterious shine in them. The whole face was framed perfectly by the black hair; curls fell into his forehead, underlining the contrast between the perfect pale skin and the hair. His mouth turned into a smile.  
“Sorry that I didn’t inform you beforehand that I would turn up,” his voice was deep and chilling, “You can close your mouth now.”  
Damn it, damn it, damn it…I’ve been starring at him with opened mouth. I shut it immediately and hoped I wouldn’t blush. But I always blushed.  
“No, problem”, I replied, trying to sound calm, “But what Mr…”  
“Sherlock Holmes.” He introduced himself and offered me his hand. I took it. It was cool and I felt his long fingers touching mine, the interaction was strong but short. Sherlock Holmes…Sherlock, what a strange name…”Mr Holmes, what are you doing here? This is a morgue.”  
“Oh, I know it’s a morgue. That’s why I’m here. I’m doing experiments with this body.”  
“What sort of experiments?” I wanted to know.  
His first answer wasn’t enough, who wants to do voluntarily experiments with the dead?  
“Oh, just normal stuff like trying how long marks of beating last and such things.”  
“So you are interested in criminalistics, then?”  
“Yes, I’m a consulting detective.”  
“I’ve never heard of that job.” I asked confused and I felt stupid.  
“I’m the only one in the world. I invented the job. I help the police when ever they have trouble to solve a case on their own.”  
What could you say after that? I was trying to find an intelligent answer. But nothing came up to my mind but: “So you are cleverer than the police?” I giggled nervously.  
He smiled and said: “”Sure, I am.”  
“Okay.” What else was there to say? I wanted to know more about Mr Holmes…Sherlock but how?  
He ended my thoughts: “Well, I’d like to go on working now.”  
“Alright. Do you need any help?”  
“No.” He said. Than he said something again: “I mean: no, thank you for your offer though.”   
I couldn’t make out any sense why he said this. Did he realised that he had sounded rude? Well, no one else took his words back when they are rude to me.  
I went back to my work but once in a while I looked up to him. He was examining the body closely using a magnifier. He didn’t take any notes which was strange because all scientists write their work down. I tried to concentrate on the stuff I had to do. But he was just much more interesting than work and oh, he was so gorgeous. The most gorgeous person who ever entered the morgue, dead or alive. Suddenly the day didn’t seem so dull any more. Oh, god, my head was all spinning around him. And Sherlock Holmes was still in the room. I really hope he wouldn’t notice me staring at him. I wanted to know more about him. But how could I keep him in an interesting conservation? My life wasn't interesting at all. But he was.  
Suddenly Sherlock Holmes stopped working and looked up, straight into my face. “You’ve been watching me.” He observed. Oh, no, the odds definitely weren’t in my favour today. What should I respond?  
“You are either astonished by my working methods or my looks. I guess it’s the second.”  
I was thinking hard about the next words I wanted to say.  
He kept on talking again: “You’ve worked her for three years. Your eyes are quite used to those lights. Initially you wanted to work in a children’s hospital but instead you got this job. You live alone and you don’t take much effort in clothes. You don’t have much of a social life.”  
“Why are you telling me this?” I asked.  
How, the hell, how did he know all this?  
“Just to let you know that I know you. So we can save us all future attempts in making small talk. There isn’t much to say about me and if you really want you can look at my website: “The science of deduction”. So I’m finished with my work for today. I’ll come again to look at the results of my experiment. Please don’t change anything on the body. Afternoon.”  
He smiled and went away. Leaving me staring at the now closed door where he had disappeared just seconds ago.  
A few minutes later my mind started working normally again.  
I took a deep breath and finally I finished my work. But still now and then I thought wandered towards Sherlock Holmes.  
At about six in the afternoon I went home. Back into my lone and boring flat. But strangely I wasn’t in any bad mood. I whistled loudly and dance a few moves I remembered from my ballet lessons. I could explain why I was so happy. I just couldn’t stop smiling.  
Today really was a special day even though it all had started so dull.  
And Mr Sherlock Holmes was the main reason why this day had been so exiting. Why had he chosen my lab for his experiment? What did he do with the body? Where was he from? Did he have a girlfriend? Where does he live?  
All these questions were in my head. I was sure I have had to meet this man again. Hopefully he would soon return and use my lab for his experiments again.  
I cooked myself some pie and ate in silence. Again I watched TV. This time it was the “Connie Prince Show”. In this show a lady called Connie Prince gave people advice how they should dress themselves. Usually I watched it just half-heartedly but today I was somehow really interested and tried to remember each advice so maybe I could use them for myself later.  
After my supper I usually watch more TV but today I decided to read a book instead. It was a romantic novel. I haven’t read it in years because I had been too desperate with my own love situation. But today I just was in the right mood for this. Eventually at eleven o’clock I fell as sleep.  
This was the very first night I dreamed about Sherlock Holmes. And it was by far not the last.


End file.
